


In Time of Illness

by pt_tucker



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Caring, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Lazard-centric, Sick Character, Sickfic, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15516075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt_tucker/pseuds/pt_tucker
Summary: ...the SOLDIERs do their best to help.





	In Time of Illness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKF/gifts).



> Written for a prompt asking for one of the departments (either SOLDIER or the Turks) to rally around their Director when he gets sick. I chose SOLDIER. Also kinda written for one of KittenFair's SickFic Prompts: Stepping Up - boss/leader (character) is clearly miserable, so the others go out of their way to take as much of their workload as possible.

“Ominous,” Angeal said, holding up his PHS. He gave Sephiroth a moment to read the text before turning it back towards himself. He pushed the VR goggles up onto his forehead as the simulation began to deconstruct around them. 

Sephiroth watched the beach disintegrate into pixels as he held up his own PHS. “I received the same message.”

The text Lazard had sent simply read ‘Come to my office’ with no further details and no additional words of warmth. Unusual for a man who normally began every email communication with the exact same message of gratitude toward SOLDIER and who ended every phone call with some iteration of ‘good luck on your current mission.’ 

“Shall we go see what he wants?” Angeal asked, tucking his PHS back into his pocket. He pulled the goggles off and stowed them in their proper place by the door. 

Sephiroth nodded and put his own PHS away. He took Masamune from the weapons’ rack as they passed by it. He hadn’t needed his sword for the hand-to-hand combat they’d been engaging in, and he wasn’t likely to need it as he walked through the tower, but it’d be a hassle to return for it if Lazard required them to leave immediately. 

One of these days, his childhood weapons instructor was going to skin him alive when he found out Sephiroth oftentimes left his weapon in various parts of the building. 

They met Genesis on his way back from Lazard, the man pausing only long enough to give them a cryptic ‘Don’t let him die on you’ before stepping onto the elevator. Sephiroth and Angeal shared a look.

“Enlightening,” Angeal said.

“Very,” Sephiroth agreed. 

Apparently, Genesis had been quite serious when he’d told them not to let Lazard die on them. The Director of SOLDIER looked like he might just drop dead at any moment, the man’s face flushed and blotchy while his eyes seemed incapable of focusing on the monitor in front of him. He shivered as he typed and had to quickly bring his arm up to cough into his elbow. 

Angeal winced. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Indeed, it didn’t. Lazard’s cough was really more of a pained choking as the man attempted to breathe around the tickle in his throat and what sounded like a stuffy nose. 

“Forgive me,” Lazard said, his voice nothing like it was supposed to be, “I wouldn’t normally subject those around me to something like this, but considering SOLDIERs don’t exactly catch the common cold, I saw no reason to stay home.” He gave them a tired smile as if to say ‘what can you do?’ 

Sephiroth could think of several things he could do. Sleep being the first among them.

“I was under the impression most people considered their own well-being to be reason enough,” Sephiroth said, trying for diplomatically polite but perhaps not making it, based on Lazard’s expression. 

In truth, Sephiroth had no experience with such things. He couldn’t recall a time in which he’d been ill, save for those which had been purposefully brought about by Hojo’s experimentation. 

“I’m fine, but thank you for the concern.” Lazard looked at them expectantly before seeming to realize that he had been the one to summon them. Sephiroth’s brows drew together. This was not good. 

Lazard pulled out a pair of usb drives, handing one to each of them. “These are the most recent SOLDIER tryouts. I’ve already gone through them myself, but you know I always like to have the opinion of-” He muffled a long, hacking cough with his forearm. “-the SOLDIERs themselves before deciding.” Lazard wiped tears from his eyes. He looked miserable.

“When do you need a decision?” Angeal asked, flipping the drive over in his hands. 

“By Monday would be preferable, but I suppose it can be postponed if needed.” Another tired smile. “I realize you’re both busy men.”

“As are you,” Sephiroth said, nodding towards the stacks of paper piled up on Lazard’s desk and the PHS that had been flashing notifications since they’d arrived. 

“As am I,” Lazard agreed. He sneezed then and one of the papers went flying. 

Angeal picked it up. He sent Sephiroth a look. Sephiroth nodded. 

“I would be willing to go through some of those, if I have the appropriate clearance,” Sephiroth said as Angeal handed the paper back to Lazard.

Lazard blinked in surprise before frowning. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure?” Angeal asked. 

Lazard’s frown deepened. It made him look like a grumpy tomato with his red cheeks.

“Not that you can’t do it,” Angeal added quickly, “but there’s no reason to push yourself if there are others who can help.”

“The sooner you rest, the sooner you will get better,” Sephiroth said. Or, at least, that’s how it worked with injuries. He could only assume it was the same for illnesses. 

Lazard seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking his head. “It would take more time to explain what needs to be done with each of them than for me to do it myself. But thank you for offering.”

“If there’s anything else we can help with, let us know,” Angeal said. 

“I will.”

Sensing their dismissal, they headed out.

They let the elevator doors close before either of them spoke.

“We could send out a departmental email. Traffic all incoming messages to us and then pass them onto Lazard if necessary,” Sephiroth said, PHS already in hand.

Angeal rubbed the scruff on his chin. “I’m not certain he’d appreciate that. I get the feeling at least half of this is him not liking the idea of delegating what he thinks is his job.”

Yes. Lazard could be strangely stubborn about what he considered to be ‘his duties.’ The man had an almost fervent dislike of passing his work off to his subordinates. He even went out into the field personally to survey potential Firsts, something which Sephiroth would not have recommended with the man’s lack of field training. 

“We could…make him soup?” Sephiroth offered hesitantly. Genesis often made him soup when he returned from the lab in less than stellar condition. Apparently, it was the ‘done thing.’

The elevator doors opened before Angeal could answer. They were met with the sight of Genesis himself sitting in a chair outside the elevator, feet propped up on a case of potions, book in hand. He glanced at them out of the corner of his eye before slamming his book shut. Sephiroth didn’t need to look at the title to know it wasn’t _LOVELESS._ Genesis would never treat his beloved play like that. 

“Finally,” he said, though his current set-up made it appear as if he’d been intending to wait for some time. “One of you take over while I go to the restroom. I’ve already redirected three Seconds and a First, and I will not have one of your noisy Thirds slipping past while I’m gone.” He gave Angeal a look.

Angeal raised his hands. “They’re not mine.”

“One is,” Sephiroth pointed out. 

Genesis sneered. “Yes, and he is the _noisiest_ of the lot. And, unfortunately, one of the most persistent. I’m not certain he’ll take ‘no’ as an answer from _me._ ” 

Sephiroth’s lips twitched. Genesis could not have been more offended. The mere idea that a _Third_ did not cow to him had produced more than one rant about Fair.

“I’ll be back,” Genesis said, tossing his book to Sephiroth and leaving. 

“Is it safe to assume he’s doing what I think he’s doing?” Sephiroth asked. 

Angeal grinned. “I think so.”

Sephiroth ‘hmmed.’ Trust Genesis not to admit it aloud.

“We should station others at the most common entrances to the elevator, if Genesis hasn’t already.” It’d be easier to station them outside Lazard’s office itself, or the elevator exit that led to his office, but that was likely yet another thing the man wouldn’t appreciate. They would have to be stealthy about this.

“You know,” Angeal said, once again rubbing at his chin, “Your soup idea has merit, though I’m not certain he’ll accept it from us. Might be too out of character.”

“The sudden shift in our behavior might make him feel uncomfortable,” Sephiroth said, understanding. 

While Lazard might treat them like family, it was a family made up of people who realized that, first and foremost, they were here to do a job, and he was here to make sure they did it. A natural distance had sprung up between them as a result, one in which Lazard had never actively enforced but which few SOLDIERs would cross without a good reason to do so. Sephiroth himself had never ‘befriended’ the man, even though, as the highest ranking SOLDIER, if anyone were to have the access to do it, it would be him. 

Then again, Sephiroth never ‘befriended’ anyone. 

‘Out of character’ indeed.

“You have someone else in mind?” Sephiroth asked.

Angeal gave him a sly grin. “I think Genesis had the wrong idea about Zack. I think he’s _exactly_ who we want to see Lazard.”

Sephiroth’s lips twitched. Now there was an idea.

================================

“-more-” _Cough._ “-Thirds to-” _Cough._ “-help protect-” _Cough._

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation at a later time,” Reeve said, his voice kind despite what must have been an infuriating phone call for him. 

Lazard knew it was certainly infuriating _him._

He let out another bone-rattling cough before nodding, before realizing Reeve couldn’t see his nod and responding. “Yes, that might be for the best.” 

“I’ll call again tomorrow. Good day, Director.”

“Same to you,” Lazard said before hanging up.

He pressed a hand to his forehead. Perhaps he should reconsider that nap he’d been contemplating earlier. He was starting to make mistakes. Unimportant ones for now - such as commanding his top SOLDIERs to his office without so much as a ‘please,’ something he’d realized only after they’d left - but likely devastatingly important ones the longer he tried to push through this damn cold. 

“I’m back!” 

And, of course, a nap would give him a brief respite from Zack’s attention.

Lazard wasn’t certain who’d cursed him with the bubbly young man, but a week of swamp missions was scheduled for whomever it was when he found out. 

Zack had come bursting into his office shortly after his talk with his top three, and had proceeded to make excuse after excuse as to why he couldn’t _possibly_ leave him alone. The first being that Lazard looked like he ‘might choke to death on his own mucus and what would SOLDIER do then?’ The second being, naturally, that the person who’d sent him was far ‘scarier’ than a sickly executive.

Lazard had to give him credit; he doubted even Sephiroth would be so ballsy to say such things to his face, albeit Genesis might. Certainly not after they’d just met. He was beginning to see what Angeal saw in him.

He was, unfortunately, also beginning to see what everyone else saw in him.

“I didn’t know which one you liked and since you said you had to make some calls, I didn’t want to interrupt you to ask. So I got one of everything.” Zack popped his hands on his hips and grinned. He looked every bit like the ‘puppy’ Angeal had dubbed him, one who was waiting for its master to either tell it it’d done a good job or send it out to fetch another stick.

Lazard sighed as he looked at it all. 

Not only had he gotten, _literally,_ one of every kind of bagel that the Shinra cafeteria carried, he’d also gotten him one of every spread, three separate drinks, what looked like a container of soup, and had even rolled it all in on a serving cart. 

“Oh! And I got you this too.” Zack lifted the cart’s white cloth and pulled out a blanket that, oddly enough, matched his tie. 

“I’m surprised you could find one in this color on such short notice,” Lazard said, taking the blanket when it was offered to him. He’d quickly found that it was easier to give in than attempt to fight Zack. He laid it across his lap. 

“I asked Kunsel for help.”

That would explain it. 

Lazard coughed. 

Zack darted forward with one of the drinks he’d brought, placing it near Lazard’s keyboard. “Lemongrass tea. Recces bought it when he heard about you being sick. It’s supposed to help make you feel better.”

Lazard was oddly touched. By all accounts, this was just Zack being Zack, but Recces was far more reserved. He wouldn’t have thought the man would care enough to buy him something, ill or not.

“Remind me to pay him back,” he murmured, throat still tender from his coughing fit. He took a sip of the tea. It wasn’t bad.

Zack gave him a thumbs up. “Will do. Though, I don’t think he expects you to pay him back. Everyone wants you to feel better.”

‘Everyone?’ That reminded him…

“I’ve been receiving an unusually low number of visitors today. You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?”

A slight widening of the eyes was Zack’s only tell.

“Maybe word’s gotten around that you’re not feeling well and people don’t want to bother you with the less important stuff right now?”

“Maybe.”

He pulled up the security feeds on his PHS, careful to keep the small screen pointed away from SOLDIER eyes. He flipped through the various areas that he had access to: the SOLDIER floors, the lobby, the lounge area, and several more in between. There, on almost every floor, a SOLDIER was stationed outside the elevator. They didn’t appear to be bothering any of the civilians or general Shinra workers, though it did look as if Silas had gotten himself into an argument with a Turk.

“Maybe not,” Lazard said, amused despite himself. Amused and exasperated. He couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed with their interference. Not when he quite literally wanted to crawl under his desk and sleep for the next three days. 

He closed the feeds and put his PHS back to sleep.

“Please go tell Silas to let Reno up,” he said. Zack’s eyes grew far wider this time. “The last thing I want to deal with today is a mysteriously disappeared SOLDIER.”

Zack gave him a sheepish grin. “Yes, sir.”

He jogged out of the room, leaving behind the ridiculous mid-day ‘snack’ he’d brought with him. 

Sighing - and then coughing due to the sigh - Lazard wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and trudged over to the cart. It _was_ nice to not have to go get it himself. And his SOLDIERs’ ‘help’ hadn’t been entirely unhelpful. Without his usual interruptions, he’d gotten a surprising amount of work done, even if he did have to stop to blow his nose every few minutes. 

It was enough to at least make him reconsider his stance on secretaries. Even the Turks had one, didn’t they? Granted, it was just another Turk in training, but still. Perhaps he’d been hasty in his decision to classify them as something only the likes of Rufus and Palmer used. 

He’d just sat back down, bagel in hand, blanket back on his lap - appearances had to be maintained - when Reno came strolling through the elevator. Lazard took a sip of his tea as he watched him approach. 

“Looks like you’ve beefed up your security, yo,” he said, tapping his mag rod against his shoulder. 

“Yes-” Lazard held up a finger as he placed a hand against his nose and tried not to sneeze. After the moment had passed, he continued, “Yes. Please forgive them. I told them that I didn’t want to be disturbed and I think they-” He sneezed. “-took it more seriously than I’d intended.” Better that the Turks thought this had come from him. Losing control of one’s department was never a good look.

He blew his nose and tossed the tissue into the waste bin beside his desk before grabbing another one. The box Zack had run to get him was by now already half empty, and his handkerchief was well past usable condition. 

Reno shrugged. “We ain’t much different, I guess. We all wanna protect the boss. Why do you think they sent me, yo?” Reno pulled down his lower right eyelid, exposing the pink inside and drawing attention to his overly bright irises. 

Lazard had long suspected he had mako in his system. Whether it was from drugs or illegal Shinra experimentation likely wasn’t something he wanted to know. 

“Yo, you gonna eat all this?” Reno asked, eyeing his cart. 

“Help yourself.” Lazard didn’t bother mentioning that he’d touched some of it already. Slum children didn’t care about where their food had been, so long as it wasn’t actively dangerous.

“Anyway,” Reno said, talking around a mouthful of bagel, “I’m supposed to go over Liloc’s recent report with you. Some details had to be adjusted and we wanna make sure the primary source matches, yo.” 

In other words, he was to instruct Liloc on exactly what to say if anyone ever asked. 

Reno tossed him a usb drive. 

Lazard didn’t even attempt to catch it, his reflexes too bogged down with disease for him to succeed in anything more physical than sitting. It bounced off his keyboard and landed in his lap.

He plugged it into the computer. 

“You planning on going to the meeting later?” Reno asked, giving him a dubious look. 

Shit. Lazard had completely forgotten about the meeting.

“Of course.”

Reno made a face. “We’d prefer it if you didn’t, yo. Might take down the entire head of Shinra.”

That sounded exactly like the perfect reason why Lazard _should_ go. He didn’t see why he should suffer this alone, not while Scarlet was still running around unleashing her machine menaces on the world and forcing him to dispatch SOLDIERs to destroy them. And Reeve, the only good one among them, already knew he was ill and therefore knew enough to protect himself. 

Still, the idea of arguing over budget allocations with Heidegger while he tried not to sneeze into his coffee didn’t appeal to him. Not that the Turks needed to know that.

“I’m the only one in my department with the clearance to attend these meetings.” He coughed. “Unless the President wants to resend his ban on remote attendance?” He wouldn’t. The President didn’t like the idea of any form of recording equipment in the Board room, but it was worth a shot.

Reno sighed. “Listen, yo. I’ll be honest with you. If you go, I gotta go in Rufus’ place, and I don’t wanna have to stare at Palmer’s ugly ass face for two hours while he and Heidegger fight over who gets a bigger cut of the mako rate hike, yo. Tell ‘em you’re sending Sephiroth. Nobody’s gonna argue with that.”

Yes. Lazard wasn’t unaware of his fellow Board members’ fascination with the Silver General, their curiosity never sated due to the man never interacting with anyone outside of his necessary job requirements. He wasn’t entirely certain if they’d all even _met_ Shinra’s beloved poster boy. It was reason enough not to send him.

“Sephiroth will totally do it!” Zack said, jogging up at exactly the wrong time. “Sorry. I, uh, had to take care of something.”

Lazard had the feeling that if he checked the security feeds again right now, all of his SOLDIERs would have mysteriously disappeared from the elevators. 

“Hey!” Zack pointed at Reno. “That’s his!”

“He ain’t eatin’ all this.” Reno took another bagel as if to emphasize his point.

Zack crossed his arms and scowled. It wasn’t terribly effective.

“It’s not in Sephiroth’s job description to attend meetings in my place.” And Lazard loathed treating his employees like common gophers, unlike others he could mention. His eyes strayed to the Turk.

“Yeah, but he’ll totally want to do it. You should at least ask.”

So that answered his question of who’d set up his SOLDIER nanny. Or, at least, it was one of the answers. There was likely two more names that could be added to that list.

“Who knows, maybe he’ll think it’s fun. Trying new things and all that,” Zack continued.

Lazard pursued his lips.

“It’s not like he won’t say no if he doesn’t want to do it.”

That was true enough. One did not simply force Sephiroth to take on assignments he didn’t want to take on. The man rarely refused, but when he did, it was final.

…Lazard really didn’t want to go to the meeting.

“Why don’t you go ask him?” he said. Anything to get the overexuberant SOLDIER out of his office. His enthusiasm, while no doubt an asset to the company, was personally exhausting. His respect for Angeal had risen threefold in the past few hours.

“Yes!” Zack pumped his elbows back before darting off.

Lazard blew his nose and tossed another disgusting tissue into the trash. “Now then, about this report…”

================================

“I don’t agree,” Sephiroth said, not for the first time during their meeting, and likely not for the last. 

So far he hadn’t agreed with any of Scarlet’s weapon placement plans - all of them, in his words, ‘showing a distinct lack of battle experience’ - half of Heidegger’s new trooper training regimens - ‘Have you ever trained anyone before, Director?’ - and most of Rufus’ general rule-by-fear ideals that the younger man had managed to slip into the conversation here and there. Meanwhile, he seemed to have no opinion on Palmer’s space program, though he’d implied that it would perhaps be wise to consult the actual engineers of said program before assuring that something absolutely could be done, and had been content to accept Reeve as ‘someone who would know more about urban development than himself.’ 

The President looked as if he wasn’t certain if he should consider this entire thing a rare opportunity or a complete disaster.

All-in-all, it’d been one of the more entertaining meetings Reeve had attended. And one of the more productive, seeing how most of the department heads were hesitant to argue with the man who’d single-handedly crushed the latest slum uprising by his mere presence. At the very least, there’d been no yelling at the table today.

“You realize you’re sitting in for Director Lazard and aren’t, technically, making any decisions of your own?” Rufus said, trying for a different tactic.

Sephiroth regarded him coolly. “Are you implying that Director Lazard would approve a plan that will likely result in the death of at least one SOLDIER, Vice President?”

Rufus pursed his lips. 

The President raised an eyebrow at his son, as if to say ‘well, what are you going to say to that?’

Reeve brought his mug up to hide his smile.

================================

Lazard blinked at Sephiroth. “You managed to get them to agree to my budget proposal?”

Sephiroth frowned. “Was I not supposed to? It was listed in the notes you gave me.”

Yes, but that’d been more of a ‘in case someone brings up money allocation’ sort of thing and not something he’d expected Sephiroth to actively push for nor achieve. 

“Not at all. I’m…surprised. I didn’t think any of them would agree to it.”

“They didn’t.”

Well then. 

Lazard coughed, pressing his face into the blanket Zack had brought him. He’d eventually given up and wrapped it around his shoulders after Zack’s fifth attempt to find the room’s thermostat so that he could turn up the heat. He felt ridiculous, but so far not a single one of his visitors had mentioned it. 

“Director!”

Speak of the devil…

Zack carried in an entire crockpot. He placed it on the cart - now empty of its bagels, thanks to Reno - and rolled the cart to the wall before plugging the crockpot into the outlet. He pulled a bowl out of his pocket, dusted it off, and set it alongside the cooker.

“Roberts made this. Said it’s his secret family recipe, sure to make you feel better!” Zack ran a hand through his hair. “Or maybe it was put hair on your chest? I can’t remember.” 

Lazard made a mental note to send that to the Turk department the instant Zack left.

“I’ll be sure to give him my thanks.”

“Hello, sir,” Zack said, nodding to Sephiroth as if he’d just then noticed Shinra’s most notorious SOLDIER, before turning back to Lazard. “So, what else do we have to do today?” 

_We._ Always ‘we.’ What _he_ had to do was review the reports from Wutai and create a plan of action based on the day’s results. 

“You’re staying late tonight?” Sephiroth asked, frowning.

Lazard stayed late every night, something which they both knew well. He was often still in his office when Sephiroth returned home from a mission that’d ended long after dark had fallen.

“I still need to go over the reports from Wutai.” 

And then he needed to assign tomorrow’s missions to his SOLDIERs, or at the very least decide which of the incoming requests from other departments actually required SOLDIERs in the first place. After that, he needed to review the past disciplinary records of one of his SOLDIERs. Apparently Roland had punched one of Hollander’s lab techs in the face, and while Lazard didn’t doubt they’d deserved it, the proper procedure still needed to be followed. And, finally, if he got all that done, he needed to respond to the email from Rufus he’d been ignoring all day. 

“Our offer is still open. If there’s anything we can do to help, feel free to let us know,” Sephiroth said. Zack nodded enthusiastically behind him.

Lazard brought a tissue up to sneeze into it. He _had_ done the majority of his work today. Perhaps, just this once, he could shift some of his other responsibilities off on his Firsts. If nothing else, he could put the results towards their annual evaluations. It was getting tiring giving them the same lines over and over, but what else was he supposed to say besides ‘You’re still the best SOLDIER I have, keep up the good work’?

“I would like to go over the Wutai reports myself, though I’ll send them to you when I’m done so that you may review them.” He also likely needed to respond to Rufus himself, loathe as he was to do it. “Do you feel that you know enough about your fellow SOLDIERs to assign them appropriate missions?”

Sephiroth shook his head.

“Angeal does!” Zack said, jumping forward. “And I can help. I know a lot of the guys. Oh, and Kunsel too!”

Kunsel was the ideal candidate for the job. The man likely knew about all of the missions anyway.

“Very well.” Lazard nodded. That left the disciplinary records. 

“Would Genesis be willing to look into an incident that occurred earlier today between a SOLDIER and one of the Science Department technicians?” he asked Sephiroth. 

Despite his outward disdain for those around him, Genesis was exceedingly fair when it came to such things, and he was generally loved by his subordinates. Angeal might have been the one green Thirds ran to in their time of need, but it was Genesis who could likely make off with half of SOLDIER if he so desired. 

Sephiroth gave him one of his rare smiles. “I have the feeling Genesis will not mind.”

“That should take care of everything, then. I’ll send the appropriate details to everyone’s PHS.”

“Yes! We won’t let you down!” Zack shot off like a puppy in search of its master. In a way, he was.

Lazard shook his head. “Angeal is a far stronger man than I.”

“And I,” Sephiroth agreed. He gave Lazard a parting nod before heading towards the door at a much more leisurely pace.

Lazard waited for the door to close before he picked up his PHS. 

“Director Lazard,” Tseng answered.

“Forgive me for bothering you, but if you’d let Reno know that there’s something here in my office for him whenever he has time, I’d appreciate it.” He turned away from the microphone as he sneezed. 

“I’ll let him know. May I ask what it is?”

“I’m not certain, but I think it’s soup filled with alcohol.”

“…He’ll be overjoyed, I’m certain.”

They ended the call and Lazard pulled up his email. He supposed he’d put it off long enough.

He wrapped his blanket tighter around himself and got to work.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it, especially my dear giftee!
> 
> As always, comments & kudos are love. <3


End file.
